To Neglect the Obvious
by Machinesister
Summary: Ever wondered how Fingon and Maedhros managed to keep their 'secret' to themselves, despite the intrusion of Maedhros' disapproving father? Fluff
1. Feanor

Morhelek: This is my first Silm fic, spawned from awe for the book and the masses of amazing fanfiction here. Please give some advice, I'm pretty much walking shaky ground here, and the fic may also possibly be OOC. I'm nowhere near as good as the writers here, but I'd like to try .  
  
The undying realm of Valinor was as fair and peaceful as ever - the Vanyar were dwelling happily on Taniquetil, the Teleri were building beautiful white ships in Alqualonde, and the Noldor were crafting various precious jewels in Tirion, loving the teachings of Aule - save Fingon and Maedhros of the House of Finwe, who, despite being perilously akin, shared a bond that far exceeded the union of a man and his wife.   
  
Feanor was aware of this, and was not in the least pleased - or at least, not in the least pleased with the behaviour that the said two cousins wished to display in public. Not a single living being knew of the intimate activities they shared; the forbidden pleasures experienced.   
  
Presently the duo were locked in a light embrace in the chambers of the mansion of Curufinwe, peaceful but ever vigilant of the disapproving footsteps of Maedhros' father. And with good reason, too - five hours locked in a room was more than enough to arouse dangerous suspicions.  
  
Maedhros' eyes were shut, preferring not to let his contentment be pierced by the light of the Tree outside. A long-fingered hand gently stroked the soft cheek of Fingon, who had to ghost of a soft smile resting on his lips, and whose eyes weren't open either.  
  
Tap, tap.  
  
Uh-oh. Those sounds nearly always signified the ominous.  
  
The noise stopped. Such were the lightfootedness of the elves, to the extent that their footsteps could not be heard even by those keen of ear.  
  
"Raving Mandos," muttered Maedhros, reluctantly unweaving his limbs from Fingon's, and slipping out of the silken bedsheets into his elaborate tunic, all of the movements graceful and swift. "Valar, why do these clothes have to be so elaborate?"  
  
Still entangled in the mass of dark red sheets, a post-coital Fingon repressed a groan and stirred.  
  
"Hurry, Findekano, or father may find us out!" hissed Maedhros, tugging at the lump on the bed. This shocked the other, as he immediately jumped up and started dressing himself.   
  
"Do you think he'll get suspicious with the 5 hours I spent at your place?" said Fingon anxiously, tugging at his clasps.   
  
"I don't know!" snapped the redhead, bending down to scoop up the chess pieces that had been carelessly swept aside in favour of a much more engaging activity. "All we can do is set up the chess board and hope my father isn't in a paranoid mood today!"  
  
"Okay, quick!" Fingon tossed the chessboard and chess pieces onto the bed and started arranging them at random, frantically trying to simulate a game of chess that had been going on for days.   
  
Tap, tap, tap.  
  
"Get on the bed!" said Fingon hoarsely, leaning over and pulling at the corner of Maedhros' garments urgently.  
  
"Are you mad? Do you think that our jewellery on the floor won't make him -"  
  
The door swung open with a sudden bang, revealing a dirty-looking Feanor whose furious glare more than made up for his clothe's present condition. He strode to the bed, where the cousins were seated.  
  
"What have you been doing, Maedhros?" he said accusingly, gesturing at the chess board and all related indicia, including Fingon.   
  
"Playing chess," shrugged Maedhros nonchalantly, raising his hand to move another black chesspiece across the board.  
  
"Surely a match of chess cannot explain why you have been shut in here for five hours with -" Feanor paused from his angry rant to find a suitable curse for one of the house of Indis " -with this - this filthy Vanya scum?"  
  
Awkward silence filled the air.  
  
"Filthy Vanya scum?" repeated Maedhros slowly, outraged. He swept himself off the bed to face his father, scarcely smaller than his height. "You scarce have reason to speak ill of your brothers, father!"  
  
Feanor's eyes flashed dangerously at being gainsaid. "You are my son, and you will show me respect while in my presence, ingrate! Matters such as these concern you not!" he defended, livid.  
  
Maedhros cast a quick glance at the bed. Fingon had slipped off, unnoticed  
  
He exited the room without a bakcward glance.  
  
"Return here this instant, Maedhros son of Feanor!" Feanor yelled at Maedhros' retreating back. He stood there for quite some time, rooted the the spot, until the chessboard on the bed caught his eye. He looked at it for a moment, then proceeded to checkmate the White in one move, all the while muttering darkly on how his own son had failed to best "that filthy Vanya scum" and wondering why all the pieces were still on the board.  
  
Naturally, he failed to notice that the jewellery that his son would never be seen dead with, plus many others, were adorning the floor.  
  
-  
  
PS: That was pretty pointless...I need to improve... 


	2. Maglor

To Neglect The Obvious Ch2.

Many thanks to Nol and Finch for inspiring my Maedhros and Fingon, and many thanks to Squirrel On The Edge for invaluable concrit which I will definitely use in the third chapter. Oh, and special thanks to Tumgon - for the pen.

"Come to bed, Maedhros..." purred Fingon, patting the space next to him with a lazy hand. Dim tree-light shone through the crystal windows. Maedhros' grey eyes clouded with irritation.

"Every night, Findekano, ever. single. eruforsaken night, you say the same thing. Come to bed, Maedhros! Come to bed, Maitimo. COme to be, Nelyo! Come to bed, Russandol! When will you cease?

Fingon pouted, but was not daunted by his friend's stormy expression that would have scared many away. "When you eventually do so after you have gotten over that inane paranoia of yours. What do I have to do to convince you that your father is not about to abandon his beloved forge every two hours just to check if you've tampered with your apparent chastity?"

"You cannot possibly assume that you know my father better than his own son," said Maedhros defensively, "Besides, the bed in question is not even yours."

Fingon snorted, sitting up. "And yet you do not answer my question. Tell me, Son of Feanor, how is it that every single one of my suggestions manage to flutter past your ears like copulating butterflies?"

"Inane suggestions," said Maedhros dismissively, "just like all your suggestions."

Fingon snorted again, this time more significantly than the last.

"I didn't hear you complaining when we set up the chessboard." he turned an elaborately braided head to steal a glance at the clock. "First mingling of the lights. See, Russandol, your father is not about to burst in and disclaim kinship with you. Now, will you come to bed or do I have to drag you by your flaming locks, o stubborn one?"

Dark, glittering eyes narrowed unpleasantly. "Drag me, if you will, but do not expect your hand to remain intact."

FIngong was unfazed. "Do I now have to bribe you?" he asked playfully, twirling a lock of hair between his figners.

"Try me."

Fingon paused. Then, as though an idea had entered his head, got up and walked to Maedhros.

"You wish to drag me, then?"

"I have a better idea." Fingon was now looking into the Feanorian's eyes, leaning closer to his face, a little smirk playing upon his lips. Hands found their way to Maedhros' hips, and he continued to stare into grey orbs that were now flickering in slight disturbance. Their faces were very close, each was able to smell the warmth of the other's soft breath as their noses touched.

A knee lifted slightly to run lightly up the redhead's inner thighs, resting just beneath the point of growing desire, dangerously close enough to tease a soft moan from the other's lips...

"Now," said Fingon in a low voice, "I will make you a deal."

A knock. The heated air dissipated almost at once as both elves froze, jumping apart frantically like magnets of the same charge.

Without further warning, the door swung open.

A young Maglor stared, nonplussed, at the two with wide eyes. His gaze shifted to the freshly disturbed bedsheets.

He blinked.

END

PS: Con crit is most muchly appreciated, because this story still sounds a bit off to me. Comments are very welcome as well. I can't do anything about pointless flames, as demonstrated by grishnakh. Flame me, by all means, but please do state a valid reason.

UPDATE: I have just proofread this due to my inability to do so when I posted it at break. Have fixed 90% or very embarrassing typos. Sorry!


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